Chapter 32: The Assassination Attempt on Liu Xingren

The battle was fierce and savage, leaving utter devastation in its wake. Wu Ling’s vitality was truly extraordinary; though his strength was no match for the two Martial Lords and he was continually suppressed and wounded, he managed to endure through sheer tenacity.

If things continued this way, it might be the two Liu Martial Lords who would ultimately fall, for human strength has its limits, but Wu Ling seemed to possess inexhaustible reserves of power.

Just then, another figure darted forward like a phantom, swift as an arrow loosed from the string. This too was an old man—tall and imposing, yet his hair and beard were pure white, his age far surpassing that of the previous Martial Lords. His once towering figure had grown slightly stooped, his skin no longer smooth but shriveled and dry.

With a thunderous impact, he closed the distance of several hundred meters in only a few breaths, arriving before Wu Ling and striking him with a single palm. Wu Ling’s body was pierced through by the forceful blow, flesh and blood scattering. Roaring in pain, he tumbled backward a dozen times.

“Ancestor!” came two delighted cries.

“This Wu Ling is on the verge of completing his demonic rite and stepping into Bone Force. His vitality is immense, and he’s extremely difficult to kill. Join forces!” The newcomer’s voice was aged and commanding.

A volley of violent collisions sounded, growing more distant from Lu Yan’s position. Only then did he dare to peer out and observe. He saw the three elders encircling and besieging Wu Ling.

“If the Martial Lords call him ‘Ancestor,’ then this new arrival must be the Liu Clan’s Patriarch,” Lu Yan mused. The Liu Clan had five Martial Lords in total, and their Patriarch was said to be the strongest among them, though rumors claimed he was over a hundred years old and nearing the end of his life.

The Patriarch’s power utterly overwhelmed Wu Ling. In a few exchanges, Wu Ling was battered, his chest—where a grotesque head protruded—was blasted apart by the Patriarch. Yet the remaining stump writhed as if trying to regenerate.

In the end, Wu Ling, reckless and unafraid of death, sacrificed an arm to break free from the encirclement and fled deep into the mountains. The three Liu experts pursued relentlessly, vanishing into the forest, and silence fell over the area.

Lu Yan swiftly approached Liu Xingren.

“Who’s there?” Liu Xingren, noticing the approach, barked sharply.

With a flick of his wrist, four sleeve-darts shot through the air toward Liu Xingren, while at the same time Lu Yan launched himself forward, swift as a gale.

Liu Xingren summoned his internal energy, covering one hand in crimson scales and slicing the darts out of the air before meeting Lu Yan’s attack with his palm.

At the impact, Lu Yan stood firm while Liu Xingren staggered back five or six steps, finally getting a clear look at his adversary.

“It’s you?” Liu Xingren’s pupils contracted. He hadn’t expected that his earlier strike had neither killed nor even wounded Lu Yan.

“He’s wearing armor,” Liu Xingren realized. That explained the odd sensation when his attack landed before.

Lu Yan said nothing, pressing the attack relentlessly.

“You dare strike your superior? Such a crime demands extermination of your entire clan! Die!” Liu Xingren thundered, his voice echoing through the night, hoping to intimidate or even drive Lu Yan away. After all, the three Liu Martial Lords had just left and could still be nearby. If he managed to draw one back, Lu Yan would be doomed.

But Lu Yan was unmoved; his assault was as fierce as a tempest. Though usually cautious, once he made a decision, he executed it with ruthless efficiency—just as he had with Sun Xiang and Meng Qi, he would do the same with Liu Xingren.

Liu Xingren’s right arm was severely injured, several bones shattered—impossible to recover from in just a few hours. Even with the superhuman recuperation granted by fivefold Limit Breakers, it would take at least ten days to half a month for such wounds to heal.

Not only was his right arm crippled, but he also suffered other injuries and his vitality was depleted—nowhere near his peak.

In such a state, he was no match for Lu Yan’s onslaught. Within a few moves, he narrowly avoided a fatal blow to his throat.

“Burning Shadow Technique—kill!” Liu Xingren roared, his eyes bloodshot, muscles bulging, especially in his left arm where veins writhed like snakes. He lashed out with a palm.

To Lu Yan’s eyes, the strike split into four, then six, turning into six palms assaulting six vital points simultaneously, impossible to distinguish real from illusion.

Lu Yan responded with five rapid blows—fists and palms—intercepting five of the strikes. Yet all five found only empty air.

“Not good!” Lu Yan’s heart tightened.

Suddenly, Liu Xingren’s hand appeared before him, the scales along its edge bristling like blades, slicing toward Lu Yan’s throat.

It was too late to block. At the critical moment, Lu Yan stamped his feet, retreating half a meter in a flash, narrowly evading the deadly attack.

“The martial arts of the aristocratic clans truly are sinister,” thought Lu Yan, heightening his vigilance. Yet instead of retreating, he pressed forward with renewed aggression. The three Liu Martial Lords were clearly gone, and Liu Xingren was at the end of his strength. Now was the best opportunity to kill him—if missed, Lu Yan would have to flee the city with his parents at once.

After unleashing that technique, Liu Xingren’s wounds tore open, making him gasp in pain, his vitality flagging further.

Lu Yan extended his hand, fingers like blades, stabbing toward Liu Xingren. His arm twisted like a serpent, weaving past Liu Xingren’s defenses and striking his chest.

In the instant of impact, Lu Yan’s open hand clenched into a fist, unleashing a burst of power that crashed into Liu Xingren’s chest.

The Gale Hand combined the strengths of Iron Thread Fist and Stone-Shattering Palm, switching seamlessly between fist and palm.

There was a sickening crunch as Liu Xingren’s chest caved in and blood gushed from his mouth.

He howled and swung back, but Lu Yan’s left fist smashed into his already broken right arm, tearing muscle and bone, sending the limb flying in a spray of blood and flesh.

Liu Xingren staggered back, shrieking in agony. Lu Yan closed in and unleashed a full-force punch to his chest.

With a thunderous impact, the blow landed on Liu Xingren’s already fractured and sunken chest, completely shattering his breastbone. Fragments pierced his heart, shredding it to a pulp.

“Die with me!” Liu Xingren screamed his final curse as a dozen blades shot from his arm, whistling through the air like flying knives.

Even with heightened vigilance, Lu Yan was caught off guard and instinctively dove to the side, rolling two or three times to avoid a fatal hit to his face or vital spots.

Yet his arm and abdomen were struck. Looking down, he saw a sliver of crimson scale embedded in his flesh, sharp as a blade.

Grimacing, Lu Yan tore the scale out, finding it as hard as iron and razor-sharp. Fortunately, his abdomen was protected by armor, and the two scales there were embedded harmlessly in it.

“So even the scales on his arm could be used like this,” Lu Yan thought, raising his estimate of the aristocratic clans’ threat level.

Despite his grave injuries, Liu Xingren had nearly forced Lu Yan to pay a steep price for his life.

After confirming Liu Xingren was truly dead, Lu Yan was finally at ease. He picked up the severed arm and corpse, quickly leaving the area—he needed to destroy the evidence.

Earlier, when the two Red Sleeve soldiers had brought them here, they’d passed a wolf den inhabited by over a dozen mountain wolves, only a few miles away.

In short order, Lu Yan arrived at the den. After searching Liu Xingren’s body and finding nothing, he tossed the corpse into the wolves’ lair.

The scent of blood drew several wolves from the depths of the den, their green eyes fixed on the body. Yet they only growled and did not immediately pounce, a trace of fear visible in their gaze.

“It’s said that martial experts, from years of eating exotic beasts, exude an aura that deters wild animals even in death. Apparently, it’s true,” Lu Yan mused.

More wolves gathered, and though the fivefold Limit Breaker’s presence was imposing, it was ultimately limited. After a while, one wolf could no longer resist and lunged at the corpse, tearing into it. The others soon followed, voraciously devouring the remains.